Page 40 of The Earl's Secret
It was something he had promised himself he would never share with another. Not Gideon, nor any woman he ever did happen to make love to, whenever that time might come.
Most certainly never, ever to Cassandra.
Yet here he was, confessing the truth to her, as his fingers rose and began to slowly free each of her buttons from their entrappings.
Cassandra did things to him that no other woman could ever match. He had held onto his feelings for her for years now, hoping they would ebb over time, that he eventually would feel for another what he felt for her, would find a way to rid himself of the affections that had dug in when he was not quite yet a man and had never since loosened their grip.
But instead, they were only tightening all the more, especially when she stood here, so close, so open, so willing to allow him in, in more than just one way.
“There,” he said, hearing the crack in his voice as he stood back from her, allowing her dress to gape open at the back. “Do you need anything else?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head, and as she began to push the sleeves down her arms, he turned around now, promising himself that today, he would be a gentleman. Soon, Gideon would return and he could speak to him and do this the right way. He had waited this long. He could continue on as he had been.
“Devon?”
“Yes,” he said, on almost a groan. There was, however, one small problem with his reasoning – before, Cassandra hadn’t been standing before him, a package of temptation.
“The wet fabric is too tight. It’s clinging to my arms. Do you think you could—”
“Of course.”
Despite everything within him telling him that this was a bad idea, he turned back around and swallowed down all of the desire that was threatening to emerge as he pushed the sleeves down her arms as gently as he could.
She was right in that the fabric was quite stuck, but together, they managed to slide the dress down her body to the floor, leaving her standing before him in her undergarments. The translucent chemise showcased every curve of her body, and Devon found himself nearly helpless to step back and away.
She reached down, causing the fabric to cling to her bottom, and picked up the blanket, slinging it around her shoulders before she shimmied out of her chemise as well. Keeping his eyes averted, Devon bent and picked up both articles of clothing before crossing to the fireplace and hanging them in front of it.
“Hopefully between the fire and the relative warmth of the air, they should dry soon,” he said, looking back to find her staring at him from over the old blanket.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She gestured toward him in response. “What about you?”
“Whataboutme?”
“Do you not need to dry your clothing as well?”
“I shall be fine,” he said. For if he removed his clothing, they would lose any sense of restraint they had left.
“Devon,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “Do you know how guilty I would feel if you were to catch your death from freezing due to an attempt at protecting my nonexistent modesty? Leave your breeches on but at least dry your shirt.”
“Very well,” he muttered, removing his top garments and pushing the other chair over in front of the fireplace to hang them upon it. “Better?”
“Much,” she said, before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Now. You promised to answer some questions.”
He ran a hand through his hair. He had, hadn’t he? It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
Now, he wasn’t so sure.
“What are you wondering about?” He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, in part to warm himself, and in part to keep himself somehow protected from her inquisition.
“How many women have you… have you… tupped?”
He couldn’t help but grin at her use of the word, so contrary to what would come off the lips of most young ladies. For one small moment he wished that she was a more reserved woman who would never find it within herself to ask such a question – for then he wouldn’t be in this predicament of having to answer it. But if that were so, then she wouldn’t be Cassandra, and Cassandra was the woman he wanted, so unlike any other he had ever met.
“Must I answer?” he asked despite already knowing his fate, and she nodded.
“You said I could ask anything.”
